


Happiness is a Choice

by singingwithoutwords



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Orphanage, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy is best uncle, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jarvis secretly rules the world, Kidfic, Nightmares, Orphanage, Orphans, Stane is and will always be a creep, Tony Has Issues, Tony is surprisingly good with kids, and so do most of the kids, basically everyone is a kid, no seriously it's not, there will be a happy ending I swear, this is not how adoption actually works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is not father material, and none of these kids would make a good heir to his empire.  And no, it doesn't matter that they're all fucking adorable, or that he's falling in love with each and every one of the brats <em>and</em> their incredibly hot caretaker.  Doesn't matter one little bit.</p><p>That being said: Jarvis, can he keep them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is no such thing as too many WIPs!  
> /dies

If there was one thing Tony Stark knew with complete and utter certainty that he was woefully unsuited for, it was fatherhood. Even if his own father had been the poster boy for epic fatherhood rather than someone who forgot for weeks or even months at a time that he _had_ a son, Tony's own personality was not suited for kids. He was erratic, subject to extreme mood swings, single-minded to the point he forgot to eat most days he was working, a heavy drinker, foul-mouthed, hedonistic, impatient with _adults_ when they couldn't keep up with him, and so socially inept that his only friends were his butler, his business partner, and his driver.

And yes, he was aware of how sad that was. He was still seriously contemplating the fuck-it-and-build-a-robot-buddy idea he'd come up with in college, just to pad out the count.

The problem with being about as far from father material as physically possible was the fact that, thanks to his massive company and even bigger fortune, he was apparently  _required_ to have a kid. When the board of directors had laid that out to him, he'd taken a moment to mentally redefine BoD so it stood for Bag of Dicks instead. And half of them were sleazily pimping their own female relatives as vessels for his seed, which- seriously? New low there, assholes.

“Sir, we're here.”

Tony pulled himself away from his own internal bitchfest against the board and looked out the car window.

The orphanage was... sad. Which, yeah, orphanage, but still. The yard was overrun with weeds and yellowing toward brown, which was probably the only reason it was just a little shaggy instead of a jungle. What few toys he could see were obviously old and in need of an upgrade or ten. There was a fence, four foot chain link with missing sections and no gate- just yet another gap big enough to drive a car through. The building itself had seen better days, probably before Tony had been born. The walls were covered in dirt and grime that nearly hid the brickwork completely. The windows were in need of a good cleaning, and a few of them were even boarded up.

The car rolled to a stop, and Happy killed the engine, glancing back at him. “Want me to wait here?” he asked, because Happy was a beautiful human being and was almost as good at anticipating Tony's thoughts as Jarvis.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “In fact, go grab yourself lunch. I'll call if I need you.”

“Got it, boss,” Happy said, nodding.

Tony climbed out of the car and headed for the sagging, unpainted porch while Happy backed out onto the street. He suspected this particular orphanage had special meaning to whichever secretary had slipped the address onto his desk, because it was in the middle of nowhere and kind of looked abandoned, even if he'd at least done enough research to know it was a legit operation and there were actual kids here.

He'd called ahead at least, so they should be expecting him, but he still knocked on the door and waited. Because an orphanage was a home, and barging into someone's home uninvited was a good way to get shot. Tony did not feel like getting shot again.

The girl who answered the door was petite. In the way wasps were petite, with a distinct air of 'I don't need to be big to kill you'. She had silky dark brown hair pulled into a no-nonsense tail at the nape of her neck and serious blue-gray eyes that looked way too old for her face, which was, like... four. At most.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “We don't buy stuff here.”

“Good, because anything people are peddling door-to-door is bound to be shit,” Tony said. “I'm looking for someone about three feet taller than you whose voice has broken. Can I come in?”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin in stubborn defiance. “You're a stranger. Only stupid people let strangers inside.”

“Can't argue with that, you're obviously a smart kiddo. Is there a grown-up in there I can talk to? I'm kind of expected.”

Further inside, Tony could hear the sound of voices. If he was any judge, someone was having an argument in there, and it caught the girl's attention. She turned so she was still blocking the door but not facing him anymore as the voices got nearer and Tony could make out words.

“-scared Bruce!” someone yelled.

“Bruce is a pansy!” another someone, older but not yet at puberty, yelled back. “He needs to man the fuck up!”

“ _Bucky!_ ” the little gatekeeper yelled. “Language! And let Clint go!” She abandoned the door, letting it swing open further while she hurried down the hall.

There were three kids in the hall besides the gatekeeper, all boys. The shortest of the three had sandy blond hair and a mean scowl, dressed in a purple shirt and ratty jeans that had probably belonged to at least two other kids before he got them. He had both hands hooked firmly on the arm of another boy, who towered over him by nearly a foot and had unkempt dark brown hair that hovered in the awkward twilight zone between short enough to not be a pain in the ass and long enough to be properly manageable. His right hand was tangled in the blond's shirt, and he didn't appear to have a left arm.

The last kid in the little group was almost as short as the blond, gauntly thin, with a head of dark curls. He was also crying, which was Not Okay, because Tony Stark was a lot of variations of asshole, but he was not the kind of asshole who could see a kid crying and ignore it.

He stepped inside and around the gatekeeper, ignoring the two kids fighting for the moment, since nobody was doing any punching or anything.

“Hey,” Tony said, crouching down with a ruthlessly squashed groan, because his knees were not what they used to be. “You okay?”

The crying kid jumped like he'd been stung and immediately clammed up. Again- Not Okay.

“It's okay, kiddo,” Tony assured him, silently thanking Jarvis for making sure there was a handkerchief in his jacket pocket as he pulled it out and shook it open. “Here, wipe your nose- you're getting your face all snotty.”

The kid stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language for a long moment before slowly taking the handkerchief, eyes never leaving Tony's face. He very carefully cleaned his face and blew his nose, then balled the cloth up in both hands.

“Wow,” the gatekeeper said from right behind Tony's shoulder. He managed not to jump and scream like a little girl. Somehow. “You didn't make him bolt- that's new.”

“You're a very good ninja for a four-year-old,” Tony said, straightening while his knees and ankles rejoiced. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I'm seven,” she informed him haughtily. “And I'm not a ninja, you just don't pay attention.”

“Fair point. You have a name, seven-year-old not-a-ninja?”

“Maria.”

“Hi, Maria, I'm Tony Stark, and I really do need to talk to someone old enough to vote.”

“Steve's out back,” the boy with one arm spoke up.

“Which is the only reason you thought you could get away with being a jerk to Bruce,” the kid in the purple shirt muttered, jumping back when one-arm feinted toward him.

“Okay, both of you need to calm the hell down,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Can someone _please_ take me to Steve so I can get on with this?”

“Get on with what?” a blessedly adult voice asked, and a vision of pure American Ideal stepped into the hall. He was tall, blond, broad-shouldered and beefy, with impossibly blue eyes and an aura about him that just _screamed_ innocence and faith in mankind. “Bruce, what's wrong?”

“Bucky was picking on Clint,” Maria said. “Again.”

“Clint punched me!” Bucky protested.

“Yeah, 'cause you yelled at Bruce!” Clint shot back.

Steve – Tony was running on the assumption that this was Steve – sighed. “Bucky, Clint, kitchen,” he said. “Separate corners. Go.” Bucky and Clint grumbled, but they went. “Bruce, sweetie, are you okay?”

Bruce solemnly held up Tony's crumpled handkerchief and sniffed quietly.

Steve took it with no sign of distaste and glanced up at Tony. “If this is yours, sir, I can wash it for you.”

“He can have it,” Tony said, shrugging. “You _are_ Steve, right? I'd hate to be calling you the wrong name in my head. I'm Tony Stark, I called earlier.”

Steve's eyes went wide. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark, I was sure I would have them fed by the time you got here, and I haven't even started making lunch yet. I'm so sorry about Bucky and Clint, too, usually they behave better than that, I swear-”

“Hey, hey, easy, big guy,” Tony said, laughing. “It's okay. No harm done. I think I'm a bit early, anyway, so my bad there. I already sent my driver off to feed himself, but I can wait on the porch if you want me to, I'm very good at keeping myself occupied.”

“No, you don't have to do that,” Steve assured him hastily. “There's room in the kitchen. I wasn't expecting company, I was planning on something simple, but I could-”

“It's fine,” Tony said, because he did actually have manners and did occasionally use them. “No need to put yourself out on my account. In fact, why don't we just order in? Seems easier.”

Steve gave him a look like he wasn't sure if Tony was being a dick or was just stupid. “Ordering in is expensive, Mr. Stark.”

“For you, maybe,” Tony said, shrugging. “I'll cover it. I'm offering to feed your horde. Consider it demonstrating my financial ability to care for a child.”

Steve was still giving him that look. Tony ran over what he'd just said, and heaved a purely mental sigh at himself. Had he really just called the guy poor, then referred to the kids as a  _horde_ ? Wow, Stark. Just... wow.

Fortunately they weren't exactly alone in the hallway, and Maria decided to remind them of that. “Bruce wants pizza,” she said loudly, while Bruce made a noise of dismay and ducked behind her.

“That's generous of you, Mr. Stark,” Steve said. Tony could only tell from long, bitter experience that his smile was forced, the man was _that_ good at being polite. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. Really. Hey, Bruce, what kind of pizza do you like?”

Bruce, still hiding behind Maria, mumbled something.

“He says whatever you want's fine,” Maria reported. “I like sausage. And extra cheese.”

“I can do that,” Tony said. “Anything else?”

“Thor likes Hawaiian. And Loki doesn't eat meat. And one with no mushrooms, Clint's allergic, and Nick likes olives 'cause he's weird, and Phil only likes cheese 'cause he's even weirder than Nick, and Bucky hates peppers, and Pepper-”

“Whoa, there,” Tony interrupted. “Gimme a second to catch up. Just out of mild curiosity, is there anything you _don't_ know?”

“My times tables past three.”

Tony laughed outright. He liked this kid. “So one extra-large cheese, one large sausage with extra cheese, one large Hawaiian, one veggie, and good old-fashioned extra-large pepperoni. Think that'll feed everyone?”

“You should double it.”

“Are you fleecing me, kid? Because you guys are tiny, there's no way you can fit that much pizza in your stomachs.”

“You've never seen Thor eat,” Steve said, his first contribution, then immediately turned red and mumbled something that was probably an excuse to escape to the kitchen, followed closely by him doing exactly that.

Tony snorted, shaking his head. “Okay, all that but double. Sound good?”

Maria nodded. “I'll go find everyone. And don't get drinks and stuff, Steve doesn't like us to drink soda.”

“Understood, ma'am” Tony said, saluting her. Maria giggled, covering her mouth with both hands to hide it, and hurried up the stairs yelling for someone named Phil. He placed an order with his usual place, then ducked into the kitchen. “Lunch'll be here in about half an hour,” he reported.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Steve said. He was busy doctoring Bucky's face, which was starting to bruise. For such a shrimp, Clint must pack one hell of a punch. “Again, I'm very sorry about all of this.”

“It's fine,” Tony said, finding an empty chair and sitting. Bruce, having followed him in from the hall, squeezed himself behind Tony and out of sight. “If everyone was behaving, I'd feel insanely out of place.”

“Still.” Steve sighed, sending Bucky back to a stool in the corner by the stove and turning to face Tony. “I was hoping to make a better impression.”

“If I wanted a perfect angel, I'd buy a statue,” Tony said. “Kids who don't act like kids creep me out.”

Clint, wedged in the corner by the back door, snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, kid,” Tony told him. “So, I've met Maria and Bruce and been sort of around Clint and Bucky. Where's the rest of 'em?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Maria's gone to get everyone for lunch,” Steve said. “They'll be down soon.”

“ _Steve!”_ Maria yelled from the depths of upstairs, right on cue. _“Loki's on the roof again!”_

Steve sighed. “Bucky, go out back and find Thor. _Don't_ tell him Loki is on the roof. Clint, Pepper and Rhodey should be in the basement- go get them for lunch, then see if you can find where Natasha's hiding.”

Tony, not about to be left behind, stood up. Bruce inched over and grabbed his hand; judging by the look on Steve's face, that was kind of unusual. “I guess we're headed for the roof?”

Steve nodded, leading the way back to the hall while Bucky and Clint scattered. “He used to have a tree house, but the tree was struck by lightning last year and had to be cut down. Now he hides on the roof when he's particularly upset.”

Tony nodded. He could understand the need for solitude, and he'd only ever had the staff to hide from, not a bunch of other kids who probably didn't get it. But he could also understand that roofs were not safe places for kids to play. So he pulled out his phone and made a note to donate a couple trees.

“So I guess today's been rough for him?” he asked, following Steve upstairs and admiring the view. Hard not to, Steve's ass was as gorgeous as the rest of him, but at least Tony was being discreet about it, right?

Steve sighed. “Loki's situation is... complicated. His brother Thor had a chance at adoption yesterday, but he refuses to leave Loki behind, and they only wanted one child.”

Tony winced, hissing quietly in sympathy. Yeah, he could see how that would fuck a kid up. “Ouch.”

Steve nodded, walking to the door directly across from the top of the stairs and opening it. “So he's hiding on the roof to avoid Thor. I might not be able to get him down.”

Maria was waiting across the room by a large window. A curtain rod and utilitarian green curtains lay in a heap on the bed closest to the window. The room itself had a clear but invisible line down the middle of it, with burgeoning teen mess on one side and the carefully organized books and toys of a much younger kid on the other.

“He nailed the window shut,” Maria reported. “He's really really upset today.”

Steve walked to the window, peering out at something, then got a good grip and yanked upward. Those muscles weren't just for show: the window came loose with a crack of wood and the screech of nails. He carefully collected the nails and set them aside, then opened the window all the way and leaned out. “Loki, it's almost lunch time- come inside?”

Tony couldn't make out exactly what the reply was, but it obviously wasn't enthusiastic.

“Please? We're having pizza.” Whatever Loki said to that was too low for Tony to hear at all. “Loki, you know Thor loves you, right? He just doesn't want you to be alone.”

“I like being alone!” Loki yelled loud enough for Tony to hear clearly. He had a British accent. What was a British kid doing in an American orphanage?

“Loki...” Steve sighed, and Tony knew that sigh. It was one he'd gotten a lot as a kid, all the way back to when he was five and insisting his nanny hated him. A sigh adults used when they just _knew_ they knew better than the kid, but the kid just wouldn't _listen_. The sigh of someone with good intentions that didn't realize they were making it worse.

Tony pocketed his phone and passed Bruce to Maria, since they seemed to get along fairly well, then patted Steve on the shoulder. “Steve, maybe you should leave the kid alone.”

Steve pulled his head back in with a sigh. “Maybe,” he agreed reluctantly. “I... forgive me, but I don't think you'd be interested in Loki and Thor, anyway.”

“Forgiven,” Tony said, smiling, then hoisted himself up on the windowsill. “Maybe put a mattress in the yard or something, in case he shoves me off the roof?” he suggested before climbing out the window, ignoring Steve's inarticulate noises of protest.

Loki was perched on the ridge of the next dormer over, hugging his knees. He was another skinny one, all arms and legs in faded black jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He had shoulder-length black hair in need of a good brushing and no shoes on.

“Go _away_ , Steve,” he said without looking up.

“Flattering, but I'm nowhere near as pretty as Steve,” Tony said, managing to make it to the dormer without getting himself killed. “I gotta tell you, kid, it's been a long time since I decided to screw around on a roof. Lovely view you've got here.”

Their perches overlooked the driveway and the empty lot next door. From up here, Tony could make out at least three forts among the weeds and garbage.

“Who are you?” Loki asked in a suspicious tone that managed somehow to be adorable.

“Tony. I'm the guy paying for the pizza. And I did not buy two veggie pizzas just for the kid I bought 'em for to skip lunch.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I do.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You don't know me.”

“So?”

“So... you're stupid.”

“At least I have shoes on,” Tony pointed out. Loki pulled his feet up closer, yanking the cuffs of his jeans over them. “Let's go in. Eat lunch. If you still wanna play Batman after, more power to you.”

Loki snorted. “I'm not playing Batman.”

“Sure you are,” Tony said. “He spends how much time in every episode standing broodingly on the corner of a random roof? I wonder if anyone's ever called the cops on him. 'Hello, police? There's a weird guy in a cape on my next-door neighbor's roof.' 'That's just Batman, ma'am. He does that sometimes, he'll be gone by morning.' And why is it always the woman who calls the cops? Are men in comics just too dumb to think of alerting the authorities or something?”

Loki laughed into his knees. It was a surprisingly full sound, given the kid was a goddamn twig.

“So- you, me, pizza, making fun of Batman. Sound like a plan?”

Loki shrugged, but he did uncurl, scampering across the roof like a cat, avoiding the loose shingles as much as possible with the state the roof was in. The place was seriously falling apart.

Loki went in first and didn't lock him out, so Tony counted their conversation as a win. Maybe he was just so immature he related better to kids than people his own age? Ah, well- at least he'd gotten Loki off the roof.

Tony climbed inside in time to watch a small child with very red hair crawl out from under the far bed and dash out the door, followed by the sound of someone yelling for 'Nat' to wait up.

“And that was?” Tony asked the room in general, closing the window.

“Natasha,” Loki said. “She's been hiding under Thor's bed since breakfast. She's strange.”

“Like you're one to talk,” Maria muttered. “C'mon, Bruce, let's go wash our hands, okay? Loki can be a hippo-whatsit all by himself.”

Tony tried not to laugh. It was a valiant effort, really.

It took him almost a full minute to recover completely. He seriously liked that kid. She was going to be devastating once she learned some bigger words.

“Are you alright, Mr. Stark?” Steve asked, like he thought maybe Tony had snapped.

“I'm fine. Really. I am completely and totally sane,” Tony assured him. “Pizza's gonna be here soon, we should probably head downstairs ourselves and see if the troops have assembled.”

“If they have, they'll have to scatter to wash their hands,” Steve predicted, stepping into the hallway. Tony gladly followed him back to the stairs, trailing Loki, who at least didn't seem to be yearning for the roof at the moment.

“I'm guessing pizza's not a thing that happens much,” Tony said, shrugging. “Can't blame 'em for getting excited, right?”

“I guess not,” Steve agreed. “Speaking of, Loki, go wash your hands, please. And be sure to get under your nails.”

Loki nodded, slipping past Tony and down the hall toward where there was probably a sink. Or an open window and a hose, not exactly an impossibility with this house.

“The dining room's through here,” Steve said, turning down the ground floor hall where Tony had yet to go.

“So, what kind of pizza do _you_ like? Maria never told-” Tony stopped mid-sentence, staring at the wall. Specifically, where the wall _wasn't_ , and the hairline cracks in the plaster around where it should be. “That's not original to the house.”

“Wha- oh. No, you used to have to go through the kitchen to reach the dining room. Mrs. Valmer, the old head caretaker, had it knocked out to open the space up a bit.”

“Well, whoever she hired to do it was an idiot,” Tony said. “This is not good. You're lucky the whole house hasn't collapsed on you.”

“What?”

“This is a load-bearing wall, Steve, which means it was put here to hold up the upstairs, and they cut too much away for it to be able to bear its assigned load. I'll lend you a lawyer so you can sue them into oblivion, and you guys can't stay here.” He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial.

“It's not as if we have somewhere else to go, Mr. Stark,” Steve protested. “This is our _home_ , not a vacation house!”

“Already on it,” Tony assured him. “Happy! Just the man I was looking for. I need you to stop by the mansion and switch cars for me, we need to fit eleven kids and two adults plus you in whatever you bring.”

“Mr. Stark!”  Steve was very good at this protesting thing.

“Keep your shirt on, Rogers. Or don't, either way's fine with me, but we might scar the kiddies. I'll get someone in to fix this little hack job, and you and the brood will stay with me in the meantime. Not like I don't have plenty of room at the mansion. I did mention I have a mansion, right? How soon can you be here, Happy?”

“Gimme 40 minutes, boss,” Happy said. “If it takes more than an hour, fire me.”

“Good,” Tony said, hanging up and glancing at Steve. “Can I call my butler and tell him to make extra for dinner, or would you rather yell at me a bit first?”

Judging by his expression, Steve was caught halfway between wanting to strangle him and wanting to set a good example for the kids.

“Look, Stevie, baby. Your house could collapse on you any day now, and we both know you won't risk that happening while the kids are in it. You can be indignant at me later, but right now you should really be helping them pack. Our ride'll be here in about 40 minutes, and Jarvis will skin me if I drop a dozen guests on him and yell surprise. I better reroute the pizza, too, it probably hasn't left the joint yet.”

Steve stared at him waging internal war for another minute, then threw his hands in the air and walked away muttering to himself.

Tony enjoyed the retreating view for a minute before turning his attention back to his phone.  Jarvis really would skin him – or at least make him _wish_ he was being skinned – if he didn't give him _some_ warning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part with Loki wound up being a bit longer than expected. Fans of characters who haven't been introduced yet, don't worry- everybody else is around, too, and they'll all get the spotlight eventually. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

Most of the kids had a single suitcase to their name. The exceptions were a tall ginger-haired girl Steve had introduced as Pepper (large suitcase and a briefcase she claimed held 'mega-important papers'), a little boy named Phil who wore his jeans and tee like they were made by Armani (two small suitcases and a duffel bag) and Bucky (oversized suitcase and an old-fashioned metal toolbox).

The kids milled on the lawn like overexcited puppies, gravitating into small groups split pretty equally between watching the street and watching Tony.

Tony, for his part, was being very aware there were children listening in on his half of the conversation, and had informed the guy on the other end of the line that those kids were the only reason he was hearing words that _weren't_ profanity. Tony had already called him some shit the guy was going to have to look up later before he could get insulted about it, and holding back was getting harder by the minute.

“I honestly could not care less what the lady said,” Tony snapped over the latest feeble excuse. “Seriously, I am _physically incapable_ of caring any less, and do you know why? Because she ran an orphanage and you're a construction company, and _you knew better_. So save me the excuses and put me through to your boss, I don't care if he's backpacking in the Alps right now, you send a fu- an effing guide up there to get him!”

Steve still winced. If Tony weren't so frustrated, that'd be cute. He'd have to try not-quite-cursing around him some other time.

“And when your boss finally decides to show his face, you tell him to call Stark Industries' legal department, because my very expensive team of lawyers want to have a long chat with him.”

Tony hung up and seriously debated throwing his phone. Incompetence in general was bad enough, but incompetence that potentially led to people being hurt was even worse.

Hypocritical, coming from a weapons developer. Kiss his ass.

He pocketed the phone instead of throwing it, since he'd made this one drunk last week and hadn't had a chance to pick it apart for reproduction yet.

“Some people,” he informed Steve, “are idiots. I can't believe I just wasted all that time talking to that particular idiot.”

“You were on the phone for three minutes,” Steve said, frowning.

“Three minutes is a long time at my age,” Tony said, shrugging, as a long black limousine swung lazily around the far corner. “Hey, he brought the limo! Happy _hates_ the limo. Man, you guys are lucky he loves me.”

The kids indulged in a contest to determine who could act the most excited. Surprisingly, Bucky won- as soon as the limo rolled to a stop, he ran right up to it and gave it a one-armed hug that sent Tony into a fit of laughter, clinging to Steve to keep himself upright.

Steve blushed, embarrassed on either Tony's behalf or Bucky's. “It's not that funny, Mr. Stark.”

“It's adorable is what it is,” Tony said, managing to get himself under control as Happy climbed out. “Come on, everybody, load your gear so we can get going.”

Happy stepped in without having to be told and helped the kids load up with a minimum of fuss and no violence aside from Maria kicking Thor, but Thor was 13 and already built like a linebacker so that barely counted. In short order, there were only four people left standing in the yard: Tony, Steve, Happy, and Bucky.

“This one wants to ride up front, Boss,” Happy said, patting Bucky's shoulder. “That okay?”

“Fine by me,” Tony said, shrugging. “Steve?”

“Okay. Bucky-”

“Listen to adults, don't touch without permission, sit still, eat my vegetables, brush my teeth after every meal, don't talk to strangers-”

“Don't be a smart-mouth.”

“What about the rest of me?” Bucky asked with a sly grin that actually made him look his age.

Steve actually rolled his eyes and smiled. “Brat.”

“Ogre!” Bucky retorted as he hurried to the front end of the limo, yanking the door open.

“See if I ever make you cookies again!” Steve mock-threatened. Bucky ignored him, climbing in and closing the door. “I haven't seen him so happy since the bus broke down,” Steve commented to Tony, shaking his head. “He managed to fix it himself and was over the moon for weeks.”

“He can fix a bus?” Tony asked in disbelief, letting Happy usher them both toward the back. “He's, like... six. Maybe seven.”

“Bucky's eleven,” Steve said, smiling. “You're very bad at ages, Mr. Stark.”

“Okay, you have _got_ to stop calling me that. You're crashing at my place, you're allowed to call me Tony.”

“I'd rather not, Mr. Stark,” Steve said as he climbed in the limo, leaving Tony wondering if he'd managed to screw up again somehow.

* * *

The drive back to the mansion was pretty uneventful. Aside from a lot of playing with windows and lights, the kids mostly managed to sit still. Nobody got blood on anything, and everyone made it out of the limo alive, at least.

Steve spent most of the ride talking to... Jake? Jamie? Some name that started with J. Tony spent the ride halfway listening to Clint try and coax Natasha out from under the seat – he still hadn't gotten a good look at that kid – and trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at Steve. Because seriously, did the man not know shirts came in larger sizes?

Thankfully, the drive wasn't a very long one, and he was able to escape the torture of not being able to slam Steve Rogers against the nearest vertical surface and kiss the living daylights out of him. Not that he didn't still _want_ to, it was just easier to ignore with other things to focus on. Like the picture of perfect Englishhood standing on the porch watching the unloading impassively.

“I did warn you,” Tony protested before Jarvis could get a word out. Just in case.

“Yes, you did,” Jarvis agreed with that funny little half smile of his. “I took the liberty of preparing several of the guest rooms, though I was unaware of what exactly constitutes a... 'herd' of children.”

Tony was a grown man, he did not blush. He just felt a little warm because of the sun. “You're a saint, Jarvis. Steve, kids, this is my butler Jarvis. I'd be lost without him.”

“You're too kind, Master Anthony,” Jarvis said with false modesty, because the old bastard knew exactly how helpless Tony would be if he ever quit.

“Also,” Tony added, hoping to get back on his butler's good side, “Regardless of what my owning the house and paying everyone in it might lead you to think, Jarvis is the boss around here. Don’t come running to me, I’m just going to agree with everything he says. Got it?”

There was a round of giggles and agreement.

“Lunch will be arriving shortly,” Jarvis informed the group. “If you will collect your things, I'll show you to the rooms in which you'll be staying, and get you all washed up.”

That occasioned a few groans here and there, but everyone grabbed their stuff and followed Jarvis inside.

Since Tony already had a room and the pizza was due any minute, he sprawled himself in one of the comfortable chairs against the foyer wall put there for just this purpose. Steve, duffel bag still in hand, joined him.

“Mr. Stark,” he said, shifting slightly, almost as if he were nervous. “I hope I haven't seemed ungrateful for everything you're doing for us...”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “I'm an ass, Steve- it rubs people wrong. No harm, no foul. Take a load off, wait for the food with me.”

Steve set his bag down and took the chair opposite Tony. “I just wanted to be sure I said thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“You can thank me by calling me Tony,” Tony said. “Seriously, nobody calls me Mr. Stark except paparazzi and new interns, and you're neither.”

Steve sighed, nodding. “Okay. Tony.”

Tony was saved from ruining the moment by the doorbell ringing. “That would be the pizza, then,” he said instead of something insensitive and possibly perverted, hauling himself to his feet. He'd ordered form his usual place, which had its own security code for the gate; anyone else would have to be buzzed in manually.

There was indeed someone in the black polo and khakis of Corner Fire Pizzeria on the porch, carrying a stack of pizzas almost as tall as she was. Not that that was saying much, Bucky was the same height and he was apparently eleven. Not that she could be mistaken for eleven, since she'd definitely done all her filling out, and it was the rare parent that would let an eleven-year-old buzz her hair down too short for styling and dye it bright blue.

“I don't think I've seen you before,” Tony remarked, leaning against the doorjamb so Happy could get by.

“Never won the draw before,” she said, grinning. “I think I was saving up my luck for today.” She pulled out the receipt, holding it up with one hand, balancing the stack of boxes on the other as if she did that sort of thing ten times a day. “Two extra-large pepperoni, two extra-large cheese, two large Hawaiian, two large veggie, and two large sausage with extra cheese. Sound right?”

“Yep. You guys charged me, right?”

She nodded, handing off the stack of boxes to Happy. “Charged your usual tip, too. Thanks for paying my rent for the next tow months.”

“It was my pleasure,” Tony assured her.

“Whoa.”

Tony looked down to find a kid behind him. Clint, specifically, staring at Pizza Girl like she was a fascinating species of alien. Which at his age was probably about how he saw adults even when they _didn't_ have blue hair.

“Steve-”

“No.”

“You don't even know what I was gonna ask!” Clint protested, turning to Tony. “Mr. Tony, can I dye my hair purple?”

Tony laughed, mainly out of disbelief. “Why would you ask me that right in front of Steve after he just told you no?”

Clint shrugged. “Was worth a shot,” he said, turning and running back down the hall. _“Nat, pizza's here!”_

“No running inside!” Steve called after him. “And no yelling! Sorry about that, Miss.”

“No problem,” the pizza girl said, smiling. “He's adorable. Enjoy your pizza, and thanks again for your business.”

“Tell Ray he has good taste in employees,” Tony responded with a grin. She laughed and hopped off the porch, heading back to her car.

Steve had already gone the way of the pizza, so Tony made his way to the formal dining room, where Happy, Jarvis, and Steve were setting the pizzas out on the buffet and the kids were lining up with plates. Tony grabbed a plate for himself and joined the line behind Maria and Bruce.

It was fascinating to watch how the kids worked as a unit, most of them obviously very used to each other. Thor, Loki, and Pepper spent as much time moving slices for the shorter kids as getting their own food. Nobody got impatient when Bucky needed to put his plate down to fill it up. Phil didn't even have to ask before the kid with the J name cut his pizza into pieces for him. Nobody started eating until everyone was sitting with a full plate, including Jarvis, who was apparently as vulnerable to Bruce's big brown puppy eyes as Tony.

It was probably the liveliest and friendliest meal ever had at the Stark homestead.

Pepper and Maria insisted on helping clear the table once everyone was done, and tooth-brushing turned out to be a group venture with this bunch, then it was naptime for the eight-and-unders. Pepper discovered the library and put Belle to shame. Thor found the gym and begged until Steve agreed he could use it, as long as Happy was with him, because even complete strangers trusted Happy with their kids.

J-kid's name turned out to be James, but he preferred Rhodey, and he and Bucky settled down to watch TV with a kid with an eyepatch that Tony was not afraid to admit was creepy as hell.

Bruce was just old enough to escape a nap. As soon as Steve left to put Phil to bed, Bruce had grabbed onto Tony's shirt and refused to let go, which left Tony at a bit of a loss. Normally he'd be in his workshop right now, but no way in hell he could take a kid in there, right?

Which was how he wound up sitting at the kitchen counter with Bruce on the stool next to him, dissecting one of his old phones. It helped that Bruce actually seemed to be paying attention to what he was doing, carefully taking the pieces Tony handed him and laying them out in a neat array.

Steve found them and frowned, but didn't say anything and left after a few minutes, apparently satisfied that they weren't in danger of blowing themselves up. Jarvis came in, complimented Bruce on his organizational skills, then left once more. No one else bothered them until naptime ended, and they'd about gotten the thing put back together again, anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pizza Girl was played by tsukiyuuki, who won a [contest over on my tumblr](http://withoutwordsfics.tumblr.com/post/80594505112/so-i-saw-a-thing-in-a-place).


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce latched onto Maria as soon as she wandered into the kitchen, which was actually completely fine with Tony. He had not forgotten at all about the whole 'Loki likes high places' thing, and there were sections of Casa de Stark that were five stories high. Not safe for small children, no matter how agile and squirrel-like or how badly they wanted to hide from their brothers.

He found Loki in the public study for impressing visitors, wedged under the desk. That had been one of Tony's favorite hiding places, once his father stopped bringing work home and instead just stayed at work. He was pretty sure Jarvis had always known about it and just pretended to never be able to find him.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, rapping his knuckles on the desk. “Hide and seek's over, I've got something I wanna show you.”

Loki made uncomplimentary noises and maybe said a word he was too young to know.

“Come on, you'll like this. Promise. I could just drag you out by your ankle, you know- I am bigger than you.”

“You'd be a bully if you did,” Loki said. “Steve doesn't like bullies.”

“Fine, I'll give you five bucks if you come with me.”

Loki thought that over for a minute, then climbed out of hiding, patting his hair down. “Deal.”

Tony grinned. “I like you, kid. Let's go.”

They went the long way through the mansion to avoid the other kids, eventually reaching the back door.

The yard was enormous, maintained through twice weekly visits from a landscaping firm. There was a large stone patio butting up against about half an acre of open grass, then the carefully tended flower gardens and the smaller but even more orderly herb and vegetable garden that Tony had secretly helped Jarvis plant when he was twelve and supposed to be studying. Across the grass from the vegetables was a small stand of trees. Most were fairly recent, only a few decades old, but the one in the middle was a massive oak planted when the mansion had first been built, and that was their destination.

It was cool and shaded under the trees, leaves blocking most of the afternoon sunlight. Ten feet above the ground, exactly where he'd left it, was a treehouse. It was a pretty sad-looking thing now, weathered and halfway hidden by new growth, but it was still structurally sound, and a lot safer than the roof.

“It needs a new ladder,” he said. “And a lot of work. But I figure while you're here, you might wanna use it.”

Loki, when he glanced down, was staring at the treehouse, eyes so wide Tony was half afraid they might pop out of his skull entirely. “This is for me?”

“Yeah. I know it's not much, but-”

“It's perfect,” Loki interrupted.

“The hell it is. Don't tell Steve I said that.” Watching your language around kids was _hard_. “I mean, it's only the one room, 30 square feet. Doesn't even have lights.”

“It's still perfect.”

“Oh, so you don't _want_ your own tree mansion,” Tony said. “I see how it is.”

Loki blinked up at him. “What?”

“I'm thinking we expand upward a bit, lay in some solar panels, give you some limited power. And the other trees are big enough now to support a few more sections. What do you think?”

Loki was still staring at him, but Tony could see the gears turning.

“Come on, let's go find some drafting paper and start drawing up plans.”

* * *

Dinner was some sort of delicious baked chicken, pasta, and a salad. Unsurprisingly, while the kids were perfectly content to eat the chicken and pasta, most of them didn't appreciate the salad. Steve had been trying to get them to eat their vegetables for years in some cases, with little to no success. Neither Jarvis nor Mr. Stark seemed particularly bothered by it, though Steve felt a twinge over the wasted food.

Jarvis turned out to be invaluable once dinner was over. Normally getting all of the kids cleaned up and in their pajamas took Steve at least an hour, but Jarvis was so briskly efficient that by the time Steve had gotten Clint and Natasha ready for bed, everyone else was set. It was actually a bit frightening.

“How are you feeling, Natasha?” Steve asked, helping her pick an outfit for tomorrow. Natasha was very attached to routine, and suddenly finding herself in a new house full of strangers probably had her shaken up a bit. She didn't tend to react well to unexpected things, and Steve was more than a bit worried about her.

Natasha cocked her head to the side, frowning. Another thing she disliked was talking; when she'd first come to the orphanage, some of the kids had made fun of her heavy Russian accent, driving her into a period of muteness that still hadn't quite ended. Steve was getting the hang of her expressions and gestures, though, and that frown meant he was right about all this being upsetting for her.

“Do you want to go to bed early?” he asked. He was careful never to suggest things to her; she took suggestions as orders in disguise.

Natasha turned slightly to look at Clint. Just like at the orphanage, the two had found the smallest available bedroom and claimed it for themselves, putting their things in the same dresser and their pillows right next to each other. Steve didn't have the heart to even force them to sleep in separate beds. Not right now.

“I don't mind,” Clint said, shrugging. “Whatever you want's okay with me.”

Clint and Natasha didn't technically have the same bedtime. Natasha and Phil were both supposed to go to bed at 8, Clint at 8:30, but the strange bond between them drove the normally rebellious Clint to go to bed half an hour early every night, without complaint.

Natasha put down the shirt she'd been holding, solemnly hugged Steve, and climbed onto the bed. Clint followed suit with a bit more energy, pulling Natasha close and flopping onto the pillows. Steve tucked them in and wished them good night, making sure there was a nightlight plugged in before turning off the overhead and closing the door.

The rest of the children were settled in the living room with Happy and Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark was fiddling with some sort of machine while Bruce and Bucky watched. Happy was reading a story to Maria, Pepper, Thor, and Phil. Someone had given Rhodey and Nick a deck of playing cards, and they'd taken over the center of the floor to play a game. Loki was in a corner by himself with a large pad of paper an a pencil. Steve leaned against the doorjamb with a faint smile, drinking in the sheer domesticity of it all, and silently wished it could last.

“Excuse me, sir,” a polite voice at his shoulder said, and he turned to find Jarvis behind him. “I was wondering if there was a specific time at which breakfast should be ready.”

“Please, call me Steve. And... whatever time you normally make breakfast should be fine.”

“Master Anthony doesn't often eat in the mornings,” Jarvis said.

“Oh.” Well, that would have to stop. Breakfast was an important meal, it couldn't just be- _Down, Steve,_ he scolded himself, _Stark isn't one of your kids, he doesn't need you to take care of him._ “Well... generally, they're all awake by 7:30. Except on school days, when it takes the power of Heaven itself to move them before they miss the bus.” And thank goodness summer vacation had just started.

Jarvis smiled an understanding smile. “Then I shall have breakfast prepared for eight o'clock. Will that do?”

“Yes, thank you,” Steve said, nodding. “Really, thanks.”

“You are most welcome,” Jarvis assured him. “If I can trouble you to do me a favor, please inform Master Anthony I'm retiring for the evening.”

“Of course,” Steve said. “I'll do that now. Have a nice night.”

“You as well,” Jarvis said, turning smartly on his heel and setting off toward wherever his room was.

Steve slipped into the living room as quietly as possible, skirting the card game. Mr. Stark glanced up from what he was doing and waved, so Steve invited himself over. “Mis- Tony.”

“Hey,” Mr. Stark said. “Don't mind us, just exploring the wonderful world of robotics. Are we missing any small fries?”

Steve shook his head. “Natasha and Clint decided to go to bed a bit early. Jarvis wanted me to tell you he was retiring for the evening.”

Mr. Stark nodded, setting down his screwdriver and stretching. “I that case, I've got some work I put off today that needs doing,” he said. “Happy can help you with the kids, he's got an obscene number of nieces and nephews. I'll be down in my workshop.”

Steve nodded, sitting down next to Bruce. He had to admit, Mr. Stark really had spent a lot of time with the kids today, and he did still have a job, albeit one he could do at least partly from home. “Okay. Thank you.”

Mr. Stark stood, ruffling Bucky's hair. “See you later, kids. Sleep tight.”

The rest of the evening passed quietly, and not even Thor protested going to bed on time for once.

* * *

Tony hadn't exactly _meant_ to spend all night in his workshop, it just sort of... happened. He hadn't been lying about having work to do, and he'd settled down to do it, only coming up for air at quarter after six. Habit dictated he should stumble to his room, literally fall onto his bed, and spend the next ten hours snoring, but he didn't want to give his houseguests the impression he was a bum. Instead he dragged himself to the kitchen, brewed enough coffee to fuel an army, grabbed a Starkpad, and started working on treehouse plans to keep himself awake.

Jarvis came in about an hour later to fire the place up for the day. He gave Tony a knowing look but didn't comment, just topped off his coffee. “Good morning, Master Anthony.”

“Morning,” Tony responded, yawning. “Anybody awake yet?”

“Only yourself, to my knowledge,” Jarvis said, laying out food, because normal people ate in the mornings. “Perhaps you should go get some rest.”

Tony made a face. “I'm not twelve, J, I can handle staying up all night. Another gallon of coffee, and I'll be fine.”

Jarvis very obviously didn't buy it, but he let the subject drop. Some time later a plate of bacon and eggs appeared in front of him, and Tony automatically dug in, focus still on his blueprints. He wondered if he and Loki could do all the work between them, or if he'd have to hire a contractor to actually build the thing, and his plate was empty before he knew it.

The entire permanent household staff – all three of them besides Jarvis and Happy – were pressed into service as porters, carting food out to the dining room where Steve and the kids were undoubtedly chowing down. Tony decided against joining them, opting instead to shower.

He felt marginally more alive once he was clean and dressed in clothing that wasn't grease-stained and full of holes. He made sure to dress his best, in fact, since he needed to stop by the New York headquarters today. And he should probably tell Steve that himself, instead of just trusting Jarvis to do it. That sounded like a responsible, adult course of action.

He found Steve in one of the bedrooms, surrounded by clothing and facing off against Phil, who stood with his arms crossed defiantly in nothing but a pair of red-white-and-blue briefs.

“What's up?” Tony asked curiously.

“Phil won't get dressed,” Steve said without turning around, sighing. “He refuses to wear anything but his suit.”

“So why not let him?”

“Because he only has the one suit and I don't want to chance him ruining it.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Tony said. “So I'll buy him another suit. I need to run into town, anyway. That's why I was looking for you, let you know so you know where I am. Phil can tag along.”

Steve didn't look convinced. Phil, on the other hand, grabbed the nearest clothing and pulled it on so fast he managed to get his shirt on inside out _and_ backwards.

“You go ahead and get him dressed,” Tony suggested, smothering a laugh. “I'll go see if anyone else wants to go for a ride.”

Once he'd hunted up all the kids and posed the question, only Pepper wanted to tag along. Maria wasn't old enough to be interested in clothes shopping, Natasha had managed to squeeze herself inside a cabinet and refused to come out, and the rest of the kids were boys.

He had Happy bring around one of the slightly less flashy cars, a sleek midnight blue Audi A8, and got both kids inside before climbing in himself.

“Everybody buckled up?” Happy asked, sliding behind the wheel.

“Mr. Stark isn't,” Pepper said.

“Come on, Boss, set a good example.”

Tony grumbled, but buckled himself in. He hated seatbelts, but he wasn't about to set a _bad_ example if he could help it. “There. Let's go pay Frank a visit.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Frank ran an exclusive clothiers in the city, and was the only person Tony trusted near his neck with a tape measure. He deliberately played up his camp qualities, bordering on a stereotypical gay fashionista; his wife found it hilarious, his grown children embarrassing. He liked to flirt, he loved kids, and he had yet to be stumped by any request Tony had handed him. If anyone would enjoy the challenge of making a suit for a six-year-old, it would be Frank.

The fact that his wife ran a custom boutique for women one floor down may have also factored into Tony's choice somewhat.

Happy dropped them off at the doorstep. Pepper insisted Tony carry Phil, and kept a deathgrip on his sleeve as they went inside. She was obviously more used to the suburbs than the city.

The ground floor was given over to reception, manned by one of the four kids who'd stayed in the family business. It was the oldest daughter today, sitting on a stool behind the counter and idly flipping through a fashion magazine, which she set aside to smile at them.

“Welcome back, Mr. Stark,” she said pleasantly, eyes lighting on Phil. “And who is this handsome little man?”

Tony expected Phil to try and hide from her. He was pretty sure that was normal small-child behavior, not liking strangers. Instead, Phil looked her right in the eye and said, very solemnly, “I'm Phil. I'm six. Mr. Tony said I can have a suit.”

“We do make suits here,” she agreed, just as serious as Phil was. “In order to get you a suit, Mr. Stark has to take you upstairs in the elevator to see my dad.”

Phil nodded, pulling on Tony's jacket. “Go?”

Tony most assuredly did  _not_ melt. At all. The kid wasn't  _that_ cute. Definitely not. “Whatever you say, kiddo. We're heading up now; let Frank know I'm not alone.”

She nodded, picking up her phone as Tony took the kids around to the elevator door, an ornately carved wooden masterpiece that opened on a lushly carpeted elevator with a padded bench against one wall for those who didn't do standing.

Pepper still hadn't let go of him. At least he didn't have to worry about her wandering off. He shuddered to think what might happen when he eventually took some of the rowdier ones out of the house.

_Note to self: buy Clint a leash._

Frank was not waiting at the elevator door as usual, ready to take full advantage of the fact that he was one of four people allowed to touch Tony more than absolutely necessary. Instead he was standing by the table in the center of the room in a dark blue suit of his own making, a walking business advertisement with bright hazel eyes and brown hair going naturally gray to match his collection of laugh lines.

“Tony!” Frank exclaimed, grinning broadly. “Welcome back!”

“Frank. You're looking handsome as ever.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” Frank protested, laughing. “Look at me, I'm a mess. You, you've never looked better. I think it has something to do with your friends. Introductions, please.”

“Phil, Pepper, I'd like you to meet Frank,” Tony said. “Frank, Phil and Pepper are staying with me for a while, and Phil only owns one suit.”

Frank gasped in mock-horror, clutching his heart. “Only one suit?” he repeated, as if he'd never heard anything so shocking in his life. “The poor boy!”

Phil nodded. “Poor me.”

“Well, don't you worry, young man- we'll fix that.” Frank reached into his pocket, pulling out a tape measure. “You just stand up on this table for me and let me measure you, and you'll have yourself a closet of suits by the end of the week, does that sound good?”

 

* * *

 

Steve was not used to having to keep track of the kids in such a large house. Normally he had two stories with a tiny yard and an open lot, which was a huge blessing once the last assistant caretaker quit on him; even with the help of the older kids, it was impossible to know where everyone was at any given time. The Stark mansion was actually a mansion, with wings and everything, and the grounds were absolutely massive. He could easily lose twenty or thirty kids in all this space, never mind the nine he'd been left with.

Loki had all but put down roots in the corner of living room. He had that pad of paper again, and whatever he was working on was a secret- whenever anyone came near him, he shut the pad and glared until they went away.

Thor and Bucky were outside playing with a Frisbee Jarvis had dug up from who knew where. At least they were when Steve had checked on them twenty minutes ago, and Bucky was generally reluctant to do things that would make life difficult for Steve. Getting into fights with Clint seemed to be the only real exception there.

He had absolutely no idea where Clint and Natasha were. They'd vanished without a word as soon as they'd brushed their teeth after breakfast; he was keeping an eye out, but he doubted he'd see them before lunch. Natasha would need to map out the entire house and all the ways to get out if she had to before she'd be comfortable here, and Clint would have insisted on going with her just in case.

Maria had likewise vanished, but would be easier to find. She liked to know where everything was, but she didn't have the skill to move silently and hide at a moment's notice that Natasha and Clint did.

Rhodey was following Jarvis. Jarvis insisted it was no bother at all and that he welcomed the company, and Steve couldn't figure out if he genuinely meant it or not, but had decided to take him at his word, so that was at least one kid he didn't have to worry about.

Nick was in the library, having discovered that Tony had an extensive collection of non-fiction military literature. Nick's grandfather had been a Ranger, and he was very proud of that legacy. Steve hadn't doubted since meeting the boy that Nick would join the armed forces once he grew up, blind in one eye or not. Hopefully he stayed there for the time being.

The only unaccounted-for child that alarmed Steve was Bruce. Bruce rarely went off alone if he could help it. He was sadly still terrified of most of the other kids, despite knowing them for more than a year in some cases, and generally stayed glued to Steve, Maria, Pepper, or Clint. With Pepper out of the house and Maria and Clint exploring – something Bruce hated – Steve had expected Bruce to spend the day with him, but he'd disappeared at some point while Steve was trying to get Phil dressed, and no one had seen him since.

As he neared the entryway again, Steve heard an adult voice speaking indistinctly. Figuring it was one of the staff, he picked his pace up slightly.

He didn't recognize the man walking through the front door- he was older, bald and wearing an expensive-looking suit, preoccupied with his phone. He didn't even notice Steve at first.

“No, I'm at the house now,” he was saying. “He's probably still tinkering or something. I'll get him there on time, alright? Okay, I-” he broke off, finally spotting Steve hovering in the hallway. “I'll call you back, Mike.” He hung up his phone but didn't pocket it, giving Steve a look like Steve was a choice cut of meat and he wasn't quite sure if he was hungry. “Who are you?”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said. Normally he'd offer a handshake, but he was uncomfortable enough to be a bit impolite just this once. “And yourself?”

“Obadiah Stane,” he said. “I assume you're a... _guest_ of Tony's?”

Steve nodded, frowning. He hadn't missed that pause or the way Mr. Stane stressed the word 'guest', as if he meant something completely different. “Yes, Mr. Stark's being kind enough to let us stay with him for a while.”

“Us?” Mr. Stane repeated, with am amused look that set Steve's alarm bells ringing.

“Yes, myself and the children,” Steve clarified.

“Ah,” Mr. Stane said, pocketing his phone. “Yeah, Tony just _loves_ kids. Has a real soft spot for them. I keep telling him he should settle down and have some of his own.”

Steve smiled politely, but kept his opinion to himself. He could guess Mr. Stane was a business associate, and he didn't want to accidentally cause trouble for Tony. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, I'm just here to collect Tony, assuming you've left him in any condition to move.”

Steve didn't pretend to be the most worldly guy out there, and he knew a lot of innuendo and double meanings flew right over his head, but it didn't exactly take a genius to figure out what Mr. Stane was implying here. He felt himself blushing hotly, and had to look away for a minute to overcome the urge to punch the man. “That is  _really_ inappropriate, Mr. Stane, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't make comments like that again,” he said.

Mr. Stane held his hands up and laughed, as if he hadn't just insinuated that Steve was sleeping with a man he'd met yesterday. “Okay, Stevie,” And why did that nickname just sound so much more vile than it had when Tony used it yesterday? “My mistake. Won't happen again. I'll just get Tony and go.”

“Mr. Stark isn't here at the moment,” Steve said. “He said he needed to go into town.”

“I see. In that case, I'll get out of your hair.” Mr. Stane smiled, and it was so close to being friendly that its failure to quite reach just made it seem menacing. “I'll see you around, Stevie.”

“Have a good day,” Steve said automatically, not moving as Mr. Stane turned on his heel, already fiddling with his phone again. He stayed right where he was until the front door closed, then he backed into the hall as if Mr. Stane might jump back inside as soon as his back was turned and attack him.

Once safely in the hall, Steve leaned against the wall with a shudder. Some people just gave him the creeps.

“Steve?”

Steve glanced up and smiled in spite of himself. “You're going to get stuck up there,”

“Am not,” Clint disagreed from behind the vent set near the ceiling. “You okay?”

“I'm not the one in the ventilation system,” Steve said. “Is Nat with you?”

“Not right with me, she's back at the corner so's I can get out.”

“Good,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “Please get out of the vents- you know I worry when you're somewhere I can't get to you.”

“Fine,” Clint said, and Steve could _hear_ him roll his eyes. “Also Bruce is hanging out with Loki. I figured I'd tell you 'cause that's just weird. We'll go play now.”

“Somewhere that _won't_ give me a heart attack, please,” Steve said, smiling. He was already feeling calmer- the kids could do that to him. He'd miss them when they were finally adopted.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Clint said, and Steve heard the faint noise of him working his way back to wherever he'd gotten into the vents from. He'd need to talk to Tony about that when he got home. Fixing up the orphanage would take time, and the longer Clint spent in this house the more likely he was to find a space too small to get out of on his own.

 

* * *

 

Pepper loved her new dress.

It was an actual new dress, too, not a donation or a hand-me-down or one of Steve's shirts that he'd helped her sew into a neat little dress to go with all those leggings Mrs. What-was-her-name gave them last winter. It was a completely new just-for-her dress that nobody else had even gotten to try on, which was something she'd never had before.

“Are we gonna have to take that mirror home with us?” Mr. Stark asked, smiling widely, and Pepper smiled back.

“You're really sure I can have this?” she asked one last time, because a dress like this had to cost at least $30. Probably more, since Mrs. Hartford had to fix it up to make it fit her.

“I think Yuiko would be offended if you didn't take it,” Mr. Stark said. “Come on, let's get out of here. It's probably lunchtime by now. You guys eat lunch, right? I'm pretty sure lunch is a thing.”

Pepper nodded, twirling one last time in front of the mirror. “How much is it?”

“Doesn't matter,” Mr. Stark said. “I've already paid for it. I spend so much here they have my info on file.”

“That's dangerous,” Pepper said, frowning. “You might get your identity stolen.”

Mr. Stark laughed. “Not likely, kiddo- if Frank stole my identity, he'd never get any business again. Places like this are too exclusive to risk that. But thanks for looking out for me. Yuiko, are we good to go?”

Mrs. Hartford, a very pretty Japanese lady with short hair and wide dark eyes, nodded. “Yes, Tony- all done.”

“Okay, then. Have the rest of the stuff shipped to the house when it's done. Ready to go, kids?”

Phil nodded. Mrs. Hartford's son Jo had brought him a stool and a few pop-up books, and he'd sat there the whole time Pepper was getting her dress fitted. He put the books down and hopped off the stool, holding his arms out to Mr. Stark, who immediately picked him up. Pepper liked that. Most grownups told Phil he was too big to be picked up or that he was a big boy and should walk, or at least rolled their eyes and acted like it was a chore to carry him. Pepper liked that Mr. Stark just did it without complaining.

“Come on, get your shoes on, no going outside barefoot, Steve will... not kill me. He doesn't seem like the killing type. I bet he's got a look, though. I don't want a look.”

Pepper laughed, pulling her sandals back on, and nodded. “He looks at you like he knows all the bad stuff you've ever done in your whole life, and he makes you  _feel bad_ about it,” she agreed. “It's  _awful_ .”

Mr. Stark laughed, too, and let Pepper grab his sleeve as they walked to the elevator. “So what do you want for lunch? I'm feeling Asian cuisine for some reason. You ever had Japanese?”

“I used to get Chinese a lot before my parents died,” Pepper said. “Is it like that?”

“Sort of but not at all,” he said. “I know a place. Their _harumaki_ is to die for. You like seafood?”

Pepper nodded. Mr. Stark talked the whole way back to the car, but he didn't let go of Phil or her the whole time, so she didn't mind.

Whoever Mr. Stark decided to adopt was going to be so lucky.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot apologize enough for the wait.

Mr. Stark still wasn't back by lunchtime, and Steve found himself worrying a bit excessively about whether or not he'd remember to feed Pepper and Phil, and what sort of food he'd feed them even if he did.

When he worked himself up enough to voice his concerns to Jarvis, though, the old man just smiled. “Happy is with them,” he reminded Steve, without making it sound like a reprimand. “He may have no children of his own, but he has a great many nieces and nephews, as well as years of handling Master Anthony- he'll make certain they're fed properly.”

“Okay,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I'm just nervous,” he admitted. “I'm not used to any of the kids being gone this long when they aren't at school. I'm sorry.”

“You've nothing to be sorry for,” Jarvis assured him. “We'll simply have to trust Happy with our charges, and focus ourselves on those still in our care.”

Steve nodded, finding himself smiling. Jarvis was terrifyingly efficient, yes, but he also had a very calming way of just existing that made Steve feel at ease. He could see why Mr. Stark was so fond of him.

“In that case, I guess I better round up the kids,” Steve said. “Clint and Natasha are probably already in the dining room, but I'm not entirely sure where everyone else wound up.”

It turned into a bit of a treasure hunt. Steve hadn't even been aware there was a second library on the third floor, which was where they found Nick and Maria arguing about some naval battle or another and whether or not certain ships 'counted'. Thor was standing in the door to the gym staring into it longingly, but at least he hadn't tried to actually go in. Bucky was in an empty bedroom dismantling an alarm clock, which Jarvis assured them both would not be missed at all so it was perfectly okay. Rhodey found them while they were searching the second floor, which left only Bruce and Loki.

When Steve reached the living room Loki was still in the corner, but he'd gone from sitting with the pad in his lap to sprawled on his stomach. Bruce sat across from him, kneeling on the carpet, pointing at the paper and speaking too softly for Steve to make out what he was saying. While Steve watched, Loki picked up the pencil and wrote something where Bruce had pointed, and they went back to talking. There was no way to listen in without getting closer and maybe interrupting them, and Steve didn't want to chance that. Bruce and Loki were both loners more by necessity than nature, and he was just happy to see them getting along.

Steve backed out of the doorway, glancing back at Jarvis. “What's the policy about eating outside the dining room?” he asked.

“As far as Master Anthony is concerned, any room is a dining room,” Jarvis said, smiling. “Shall I bring lunch to the boys?”

“If you don't mind too much?”

“Not at all.”

“Whatever Mr. Stark pays you, it's not enough,” Steve said, smiling. Jarvis just smiled back, turning and heading toward the kitchen, and Steve followed.

 

* * *

 

Pepper liked sushi. Not only that, she'd been able to pronounce most of the dishes she ate with only a little prompting, had memorized and flawlessly repeated the Japanese phrases the sushi chef had taught her, and showed real interest in the actual sushi-making process. She'd loved the tea and flatly refused to let Tony order anything alcoholic, checking everything he tried to order with Happy just to be sure. She was probably the worldliest, most grown-up twelve-year-old to have ever existed, and Tony almost regretted that she wasn't fifteen years older.

Phil had stuck mainly to tempura veggies and water, though he did love the red bean paste pastries and probably would've eaten the entire basket if Happy hadn't been smart enough to put it where he couldn't reach. Between getting red bean paste all over himself, Phil kept busy trying to read the parts of the menu written in English.

All in all, it was a great lunch. It was almost a shame it had to end.

Armed with Jarvis's standard order – because going to Umami and coming home without anything to show for it was tantamount to signing his own death warrant – they headed back to the car and piled in, and this time Tony buckled up without waiting to be told.

“Where to now, Boss?” Happy asked as he pulled into traffic.

“Go ahead and drop me off at the office, then take the kiddies back to the house for naptime,” Tony said, sighing. “The BoD hates me lately- I might be a while.”

“I don't have to take a nap,” Pepper said, staring at the back of the front seat like it was the most riveting thing she'd ever seen.

And while Tony would be the first to admit he knew next to nothing about kids, he happened to be an expert in the practice of subtle – and not-so-subtle – hinting. “It's just gonna be a boring meeting with a bunch of old people,” he warned.

“But I want to own a company when I grow up, too,” she said, looking up at him with determination and adorable all over her face. “It'll be educational. Please?”

Steve would probably be able to tell her no. Happy, too. Jarvis would be able to tell her no without even saying no. But Tony hadn't built up the tolerance to children they had. And honestly, what could it hurt? Pepper was too old for naps, and SI's New York headquarters was one of the safest buildings on the Eastern seaboard, second only to Tony's mansion.

“If anyone asks, it was your idea.”

Probably the only thing that kept Pepper from jumping on him and hugging him to death was her seatbelt.

Happy made a sound suspiciously like a laugh, but wisely didn't comment. He simply dropped them off at the steps of SI, waiting until they were inside before driving away.

Pepper went back to maintaining a death grip on Tony's hand as they walked across the lobby. Tony pretty much ignored everyone. Whoever the hell his PA was today should be waiting in his office, so nobody outside of his office mattered.

“You work here?” Pepper asked once they were alone in the elevator, staring wide-eyed around her.

“Sometimes,” Tony said. “Mostly I work from home. The lab and workshop there are so much better. I only come here when they make me do CEO stuff. I'd rather be building something, personally.”

“But this place is so nice!” she protested as they reached the right floor and stepped out into the hall.

“You can have it,” Tony said, pushing open his office door. “This will be your torture chamber.”

“You're late, Mr. Stark.”

There was a man standing next to his desk, a very attractive man with dark skin, smiling eyes, and a military air that went well with his business casual.

"Who are you?" Tony asked. He couldn't be a military liaison, he already had a military liaison, didn't he? He hoped nothing was wrong with Danvers, he liked Danvers, Danvers laughed at his jokes but would still punch him in the kidney if he annoyed her too much.

“Sam Wilson. I'm the latest sap HR's trying to get rid of.” Wow. New PA, then. “Let's go, the Board's waiting.”

Tony sighed, glancing down at Pepper. “See why I hate it here? Everyone's always telling me what to do.”

“You can complain and walk at the same time,” PA pointed out, herding them back into the hall. “I can take your friend down to the daycare-”

“No, Pepper stays with me,” Tony said. “I need to disillusion her. She wants to own a company. She doesn't realize she'll die of boredom.”

PA didn't even roll his eyes. “The Board won't like it.”

“The Board can kiss my ass. Don't tell Steve I said that.”

Pepper laughed. “I won't,” she promised. “I might need something from you someday.”

Even PA laughed at that, and Tony affected a wounded expression. “After I bought you a new dress and everything.”

That set Pepper off again, and then they were being nudged into the boardroom, where the Board sat shuffling papers. PA ousted somebody's aide so Pepper could have a chair, and Tony put his best game face on, taking his seat at the head of the almost melodramatically huge table.

“Okay, gentlemen- let's get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

Maria's room reminded her of the hotel she'd been put in after she got away from her parents. It was big, with a ginormous bed and a vanity with a mirror and comfy chair. Everything from the thick carpet to the pretty curtains to the blankets and pillows was dark blue and all shades of brown. She'd had to fight Thor for it, but she knew how to deal with Thor- he was always scared Steve might call him a bully, so he never fought back like he meant it.

Maria brushed her teeth in a bathroom she only had to share with Clint and Natasha instead of with everybody, then got dressed for bed and sat down at the vanity. She'd found a super-pretty silver hairbrush while exploring, and she couldn't wait to use it.

She could barely see her head in the mirror, but that was okay. She sat and brushed her hair and hummed the lullaby she always overheard Steve singing to Phil. She didn't know the words, she'd never been able to hear clear enough, but she knew the tune anyway.

“Psst!”

Maria jumped, nearly dropping the brush, and turned to glare at Pepper standing in the doorway.

“Sorry,” Pepper said. “Can I come in?”

That was great, finally having a room Pepper had to ask to come in. Not that she'd ever tell Pepper no, Pepper was her best friend, but still. It was nice to know she _could_.

“Sure. You all ready for bed?”

Pepper nodded, coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed. Pepper was the oldest girl, so she got the almost-new teenage stuff- by the time Maria was big enough to wear the pretty green nightgown Pepper had on, it would be all worn out and probably ugly, just like the stupid dingy gray one Maria was wearing now.

“What did you do today?” Pepper asked.

“Just stuff.” Maria shrugged, holding out the brush. Pepper stood right up and came over to brush Maria's hair for her. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” Pepper said. “Want me to braid your hair? It'll be wavy in the morning.”

Maria shrugged again. Since she and Pepper had been roomies for a whole year, Pepper went ahead and started braiding.

“I'm gonna miss it here,” Pepper said after a minute, sighing. “It's so nice.”

“Mr. Stark might adopt you,” Maria said. “He took you to work and everything.”

“No, he won't,” Pepper said, wrapping a rubber band around the end of the braid. “I'm gonna start becoming a woman any day, and everyone knows once you start becoming a woman you won't ever get adopted.”

“If he doesn't adopt you, he's stupid,” Maria found herself saying, even though it would break her heart forever if Pepper got to stay here and she didn't.

“That's not nice,” Pepper scolded, patting the top of Maria's head. “It's just too bad he only wants one of us. Can you imagine if we _all_ got to stay here?”

Maria really couldn't. She wasn't all that good at imagining, unless it was stuff that could get messed up. “That'd be really nice,” she said, anyway.

“It would,” Pepper agreed. “There's plenty of room. If only Mr. Stark wanted us all.”

Maria slid off the chair, gnawing on her thumbnail. “Maybe we can make him want us all.”

Pepper didn't laugh, but Maria could tell she wanted to. Just because Pepper was twelve and Maria was only seven, Pepper thought she was so smart and knew everything better than Maria, and sometimes it made Maria a little mad.

“Anyway, Steve's gonna come say good night soon,” Pepper said. “You should probably get in bed.”

Maria nodded, hugging Pepper real quick and scrambling up on the bed and crawling to the pillows. Pepper helped her get under the covers and left to go do whatever mysterious things kids ten and older got to do between 8:30 and 9 o'clock.

Steve did come in a couple minutes later to give her her kiss and turn off the light. Maria didn't tell him about her new plan, though. Pepper could laugh if she wanted, but Mr. Stark had this big empty house and probably so much money, and if only one of them got adopted everyone else would be sad.

Maria burrowed down under the covers, closed her eyes, and started planning out how to make Mr. Stark want them all.

 

* * *

 

Tony knew that sleep was an important thing, a thing which he should at least be attempting to get more of right now. But Tony also knew his brain, and how to tell when it was just plain too busy to let him get any sleep. So instead of being in bed where any sane, rational person would be at half past midnight, Tony was in the kitchen, raiding.

He found a plate of gingerbread and a half-empty bottle of nine-year-old Sauternes hiding behind Happy's energy drinks. Something stronger might knock him out better – honestly, he was really craving scotch at the moment – but he still had his house guests to consider. Even at his worst, Howard had known better than to hit the hard stuff when they had company.

So Tony settled for wine, taking the bottle and a glass and the entire plate of gingerbread to the island, settling in. Chances were, if his brain didn't shut up, he'd be here until morning.

He was halfway through his second glass when he got the feeling someone was watching him, the sort of steady, invisible pressure that made him feel oddly like a mouse that could smell a cat but not see one. He'd have been alerted to any breach in the security system, and the household staff had been so thoroughly vetted that they'd have to be mind-controlled Soviet sleeper agents in order to be a danger to him, and if Steve was an assassin, then Tony was the Pope.

Tony finished his glass, then decided he'd never been very cautious, anyway. “I know you're there.”

He heard a soft thump from behind him, by the kitchen doorway, and tensed slightly but didn't turn around.

“Why don't you come in? We can have a chat.”

Another soft thump, then impossibly soft footsteps on the kitchen marble, and Natasha padded into view to one side, head hanging.

He only recognized her hair, really, since that was the only distinguishing feature he'd gotten a good look at, and there couldn't be all that many tiny redheads wandering around his house. Like pretty much everything any of the kids wore, her pajamas were hand-me-downs with at least two neat patches along the hem of the shirt and a flaking, faded picture of a unicorn gallivanting across her torso, and she was barefoot.

“Well, don't just stand there,” he said, patting the stool next to him. “Hop up. Plenty for both of us.”

Natasha studied him in unnerving silence for the longest three seconds of his life before swarming up onto the stool and settling herself. Tony slid the plate of gingerbread closer to her and looked the other way, watching out of the corner of his eye until she picked up a piece and bit into it.

“You're a quiet one, aren't you?” he asked, grabbing another piece for himself. “Seriously, I don't think I've heard you make a sound the whole time we've known each other. Which, granted- all of two days. Still. Can you talk at all? Just nod or shake your head.”

She stared at him for the second-longest three seconds of Tony's life before slowly nodding.

“Okay, so you just choose not to. Fair enough. Not like I can't talk enough for the both of us.” She nodded again, and Tony laughed. “I like you, kid.”

She smiled back, a shy little quirk of the lips that maybe most people wouldn't really classify as a smile, but it was good enough for Tony.

He nudged the plate a bit closer and stood, getting out the milk and taking a moment to stare at his collection of glasses. There were mainly heavy crystal and a bit lighter actual glass glasses, neither of which seemed like things you wanted to give a tiny child. He wasn't too concerned about them being broken, but Natasha had no shoes on, and broken glass plus tiny bare feet was a bad combo. Even Tony knew that.

_Note to self: have somebody buy some kid dishes._

_Note to self: stop saying 'note to self'._

Tony eventually settled on a china teacup that might fit her hands better, if nothing else, and filled it halfway with milk.

“It's okay to give you this stuff cold, right?” he asked, setting the cup in front of her. “I remember Jarvis always warming it up for me, but frankly I have no idea how to do that without possibly setting something on fire. And also I'm banned from doing anything even remotely like cooking. I'm allowed to make sandwiches, that's about it. I swear, you blow up a three or four microwaves...”

She gave him that little smile again, picking the cup up with both hands and taking a sip. Tony slid back onto his stool and grabbed another piece of gingerbread, sighing. “This is so not a healthy snack. I probably should have given you carrots or something. You're not gonna tell Steve on me, are you? Pepper told me he's got a _look_.”

She shook her head, setting her cup down carefully.

Tony smiled, applying himself to his gingerbread in earnest. He almost poured himself another glass of wine, but it felt wrong to be drinking in front of a kid, so no more wine for him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, while prototypes and schematics and trial results and floorplans and if he changed the metal mixture like _this_ then maybe it would handle stress better but the weight offset and so many solar panels could provide how much power and what kind of drain-

He didn't realize he'd drifted completely inside himself until he was called back to reality by a little noise of dismay and the crash of fine china against solid marble. He jerked slightly, dropping the cookie he'd been toying with for however long, and Natasha went completely rigid and expressionless. Her pajamas were soaked with milk down both legs, dripping off her toes to land in a thin puddle of more milk and shards of china. Broken china was as bad for bare feet as broken glass, right? Not good.

Tony stood, since he had shoes on, and grabbed Natasha around the waist, lifting her over the mess. She made that tiny dismayed noise again, bottom lip trembling even though she was obviously trying not to let it. He carried her clear across the kitchen and set her on the counter, checking her hands and feet even though he knew intellectually that there was virtually no way she'd gotten anything on her but milk.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing a dishtowel off its hanger and wiping the milk off her chin. “You didn't get hurt, did you?”

She stared at him with a look of blank incomprehension that... well, frankly, it kind of broke his heart, because he knew exactly how she felt.

“Are you hurt? Please, nod or shake.” Shake. “Thank goodness. Okay. I'll call the night maid, have her clean that up for us, then we need you in clean PJs, okay?”

She still looked bewildered, but she nodded, so he took a moment to call the woman he employed specifically for cleaning up his messes if they happened after the regular staff was in bed. Then he took off his shoes, just in case anything had gotten on them, picked her up again, and carried her back to his room.

The fact that he got lost twice in his own house seemed to amuse her enough to shake off some of her confusion.

Somehow, he wasn't all that surprised to discover that the room Natasha directed him to contained a Clint, who woke up as soon as Tony stepped through the door. Clint treated him to a few glares that could probably be weaponized if he wanted, but let Tony help Natasha change at least. Tony got them both back into bed, tossed the dirty clothing down the laundry chute, and got himself out of there.

He was actually surprised to discover his feet taking him to his own room, though. He hadn't even noticed that the irrational fear of Natasha somehow being hurt had managed to completely override all previous trains of thought, and now that his brain had finally shut up, he just wanted sleep.

He didn't bother undressing, just flopped on top of the covers fully clothed and let his eyes drift shut. God, if this was what fatherhood was, he was even more unequipped for it than he'd thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single scene in this chapter turned out longer than I'd originally planned. I have no idea how this happened. orz


	7. Chapter 7

Tony was aware of two things when he woke up: first, that it was Too Damn Early o'clock in the morning; second, that someone was poking him with a small stick.

He pried his eyes open reluctantly, wincing against the sunlight streaming through the open curtains, and found a face in his face. It was a tiny frowny face with dark eyes and dark bangs. He felt like he should know it, but he was nowhere near awake enough to place it.

“You shouldn't sleep on top of the blankets,” the owner of the face informed him in a little-girl voice.

He filtered through kids, discarding boys and redheads and also gingers who were a distinct category of redhead and why was he even thinking about that right now. “Why not?”

She frowned some more. “Because Steve says so.”

“Right.” He was pretty sure the name was an M name. “What time is it?”

“Breakfast time.”

“I'll pass,” Tony said, burying his face in the blanket. He hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep.

“But... I brought you breakfast.”

Oh, God. These kids were going to kill him.

Tony shifted slightly, peeking up at... Maria, that was her name. She was still frowning at him, but now she looked about ready to cry, too, and no amount of sleep was worth that. He dragged himself into a sitting position with the help of the nightstand, yawning. “Does breakfast include coffee?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded, reaching down out of view and pulling up a thermos. Tony took it, twisting off the top and taking a sniff- yep, definitely coffee. Bless her.

The coffee was still hot enough to burn his tongue and very obviously contained no sugar, so he limited himself to a few small sips to aid the waking-up process while Maria went back to the door. Some clever soul – who quite possibly might have been the kid herself – had loaded the tray onto a wheeled cart, which she dragged over to the bed for him. She didn't stab him for moving the tray to his lap himself, but insisted on taking off the cover for him.

Someone who was not Jarvis had made this, because Jarvis knew that Tony did not eat round waffles. He hadn't even known he owned a waffle iron capable of making round waffles. Round waffles were an abomination of destroyed squares that he flatly refused to eat.

Except it would take a much stronger man than Tony to look Maria in the eye and tell her he would not be eating her abomination waffles, so apparently today Tony ate round waffles.

There was a generous amount of butter and a container of syrup, at least, so his abomination waffles would at least taste like actual waffles once they were sufficiently drowned.

Tony sipped some more coffee, then registered that there was a thing of sugar on the tray, too, and dumped the whole thing into the thermos. Left to his own devices he'd probably just drink the coffee and call that breakfast, but again: much stronger man, yadda yadda yadda, so on and so forth.

“I'll come back for the stuff,” Maria said after a minute, looking like she was thinking about turning toward the door.

“What, you're just gonna leave me in here by myself?” he asked, patting the empty half of the bed next to him. “Nope, you're not allowed. Climb on up.”

She rolled her eyes at him – actually _rolled her eyes_ at him, how did such a tiny small have so much sass – and conquered the bed like a mountain climber conquering the Matterhorn. Tony offered her a slice of bacon once she was curled up against the headboard, then emptied the syrup onto the plate and picked up his fork.

Maria watched him and munched on her piece of bacon in silence for a few minutes before she cleared her throat. “So,” she said. Maybe someday she'd learn how to make it sound casual. “Natasha said you talked to her last night.”

“Oh, she talks to you?”

Maria sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Clint said that Natasha said you talked to her last night.”

“More I talked _at_ her,” Tony said, shrugging. The waffles weren't bad. A bit burnt, but then if his suspicions were correct and one or more kids had made them, that was okay. “It was a pretty one-sided conversation. So she talks to Clint?”

Maria nodded. “It'd be mean to adopt Natasha but not Clint.”

“Yeah, it would,” Tony agreed.

“But Clint also looks out for Bruce, so it'd be kind of mean to adopt Clint but not Bruce.”

“Mm-hmm.” She was too adorable. God, he needed to teach her subtlety and then unleash her on the world and watch her conquer it. “Who else does Bruce like?”

“He likes me okay,” Maria said, shrugging. “But really my best friend is Pepper. Are you gonna eat the rest of your bacon?”

“Have at it, kid.”

Maria snatched the last strip of bacon, shifting a bit closer to him, and Tony had to actually stop and remind himself not to get attached. Maria's little plan was brilliant and backfiring, because he already knew the kids were a tight bunch, and it was bad enough he was going to subject  _one_ kid to him as a father- no way in hell he could do that to all of them. Not to mention Steve would never let him. Steve would probably not let him adopt even one of his kids.

So yes, he would eat breakfast for Maria, and he'd talk with her, and he would never let himself forget that it was only a matter of time before she'd be gone again.

Tony finished his waffles in silence, listening with half an ear to Maria talk about how close all the kids were with each other, and how amazing they all were, then helped her load the tray back on the cart. Once she was gone, he considered sliding under the covers and going back to sleep. Just for a couple more hours. No one would blame him, right? Probably nobody would even notice if he didn't show his face until lunchtime.

Except he needed to talk to Jarvis about getting kid-friendly dishes, and he'd promised Loki a tree palace, and he'd like to make sure Natasha was okay after last night. He'd gotten by on less sleep before.

Tony stretched and yawned, giving his bed one last longing look, then dragged himself into the bathroom. He'd feel better once he showered.

 

* * *

 

The kitchen was all cleaned up by the time Maria got back, even though Clint still had waffle stuff in his hair.

“What took so long?” Loki demanded, tugging the cart away from Maria and pushing it over by the counter.

“He wanted me to stay,” Maria said, shrugging. “Also we didn't make the waffles right. And I think it was too early, 'cause he was still sleeping.”

“He was up pretty late,” Clint said. “'Sides, he's a grown-up- if he doesn't wanna get up, he can just go to sleep again, right?”

“Grown-ups have responsibilities,” Maria said. “So there.”

Clint stuck his tongue out at her, and Maria stuck hers out right back.

“Both of you stop being such babies,” Loki said, dumping the dishes in the sink. He was the tallest in on the plan and the only one who could reach the sink without a chair, so he was stuck washing. “What should we do next?”

“I think he's gonna go back to sleep,” Maria said, gnawing on her thumbnail. “Probably we should leave him alone until he gets up, then you try to get him to help with the treehouse.”

Loki nodded. “He already likes Bruce- he can help me.”

“Bruce is too old to be in on the plan.”

“I'm not going to _tell_ him about it, ” Loki said, rolling his eyes and sighing. “He's gonna help me with the treehouse, anyway, and he doesn't need to know about the plan to help with Mr. Stark.”

“Fine,” Maria said. “But if you tell Bruce, I'm gonna tell Thor about the treehouse.”

“I'll bite you,” Loki threatened.

Maria smiled her very sweetest at him, batting her eyes the way Pepper taught her. “I'd love to see you try.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce had always thought Loki was a little scary. He was real quiet and always looked angry about something, and Bruce had learned really young to be afraid of angry people. It didn't matter that Bruce was a whole year and two months older than Loki, Loki scared him.

He'd been surprised yesterday when Loki had asked him for help on his secret project, and he'd said yes without meaning to. The thought of spending a lot of time alone with Loki made him twitchy and nervous. But Loki had only asked him about math and gotten his help with some numbers, and even asked if Bruce would be willing to help him some more today, and hadn't once done anything really too scary.

So when Loki showed up in Bruce's room – his own room that he had entirely to himself and didn't have to share with Rhodey and Phil – he was only kind of surprised and not that scared. When he wasn't glaring or yelling at Thor, Loki was actually kind of... nice.

“Ready?” Loki asked, bouncing on his toes a bit. He had his pad again and extra pencils, and he actually smiled when Bruce nodded. “Come on, then.”

Bruce followed Loki down the hall and around what seemed like half the house until Loki decided to stop in what looked like an office. Dad had had an office like this, back in their little yellow-and-white house. Bruce breathed deep and told himself it was different, sitting down next to Loki on the floor. He was eager to get to the math. Math was safe. Numbers couldn't hurt you.

After a while, he wasn't really sure how long, Mr. Stark wandered into the office. He wasn't wearing a suit today, just jeans and a shirt with a weird helmet on it. He had a cup in one hand and a flat black screen in the other.

“Hey, just the squirt I was looking for,” Mr. Stark said, smiling and crouching next to Bruce with a groan. He smelled like soap and coffee, not alcohol and markers. Bruce tried to feel safe in the scents. “Good, you've been having ideas. Hey, Bruce, you helping out, too?”

“Bruce is very good at maths,” Loki said. “Much better than me.”

“Good for you, Bruce,” Mr. Stark said, ruffling Bruce's hair. Bruce held himself still and refused to flinch from the touch. “Then I guess this gift is for both of you,” he continued, setting the screen down on top of Loki's pad. “This is the latest and greatest in Starktech. Other people can't even buy this one yet. Go ahead, touch it.”

Loki reached out and tapped the screen with one finger. It beeped and lit up deep blue.

“For planning your tree palace,” Mr. Stark said. “Draw what you want on the screen just like you would paper. It's got some basic architectural software on it, so if what you want isn't possible, it'll tell you. It also does the math for you, and automatically saves everything you do to my private server cloud, so I can look at it on the really awesome computers in my workshop and turn it into professional blueprints.”

Loki nodded, already poking at the screen again, figuring out how to draw lines and write with his finger. Bruce bit his lip, glancing at the door. If Loki didn't need him for math anymore, maybe he should leave...

“Bruce, look at this,” Loki said, picking the screen up and shoving it into Bruce's lap. “This is amazing!”

“Of course it is- I made it,” Mr. Stark said, laughing. “What say we three put our heads together and make the best treehouse the planet has ever seen?”

Bruce found himself nodded, dragging a finger across the screen and watching the white line it left behind in fascination. It didn't take long at all before he forgot he was only supposed to be here for the math.

 

* * *

 

Steve spent most of the morning running from one end of the house to the other trying to keep track of everyone. Clint and Natasha were following Jarvis today, Bucky and Pepper had already gotten into a very loud argument over something to do with grass stains, Nick and Thor were playing in the yard with Phil, Rhodey had talked one of the maids into teaching him how to bake, he had no idea where Bruce and Loki had vanished to, and Maria was planning something. Hopefully this something did not involve a pet, because Steve was _not_ going to try and track a raccoon through this place.

It was nearly noon when he finally found Bruce and Loki, holed up in an office, absorbed in a tablet computer that Mr. Stark had apparently given them.

Speaking of Mr. Stark, he seemed to be everywhere. He ended the argument between Bucky and Pepper by handing Bucky a toolkit and asking Pepper if she wanted to see his security system. He managed to test all three batches of Rhodey's cookies. He popped in and out with Bruce and Loki, answering questions and offering his thoughts on whatever they were doing. He had a rambling one-sided conversation with Natasha.

And every time, every single time Steve saw him, he was yawning. Leaning against something. Visibly struggling to stay awake. He looked exhausted. By the time lunch came – which Mr. Stark actually ate with them – Steve was ready to disregard his vow not to treat Mr. Stark like one of his kids.

Once they were done eating and Jarvis and the older kids were clearing the table, Steve stood and moved to head off Mr. Stark's inevitable escape. “Mr. Stark?”

“Babe, you have really got to stop with the Mr. Stark stuff,” Mr. Stark said. Someone behind Steve giggled.

“Tony,” Steve said, sighing. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“Yeah,” Mr. - Tony said, smothering a yawn. “Honest. Ask Maria, she found me there.”

“Well, obviously not for long enough,” Steve said, frowning. “You should lie down for a while.”

“I thought the cut-off for naps was eight. Pretty sure I'm older than eight.”

“You still need some rest,” Steve pressed. “Please, Tony?”

Tony glared at him, as if saying please was playing dirty. Maybe to a man like Tony, it was. “ _Fine._ ”

Steve had not worked with children this long without learning how to tell when someone actually meant what they said, and when they only said it so you'd get off their case about it. “Clint, Natasha, how would you like to take your nap with Mr. Stark today?”

“What? Why would they do that? Why would you want them to do that?”

“Because I don't trust you to stay in bed,” Steve said, smiling when Tony's attempt at a response was interrupted by another yawn. “Come on- to bed with all three of you.”

Clint and Natasha, who seemed to completely agree with Steve, each grabbed one of Tony's hands. They were far too small to move Tony without his cooperation, which Tony gave with a great show of reluctance. Steve followed them out of the dining room, sharing a smile with Jarvis as he went.

Tony complained the entire walk to his bedroom, across the bedroom, and up to the enormous bed. He kicked off his shoes and complained his way under the covers.

Natasha wormed her way under Mr. Stark's arm and curled against his side like an overgrown cat. Clint pressed himself against the man's other side, and the complaining stopped. They made a cozy little picture, and Steve could be reasonably certain Mr. Stark wasn't going anywhere until he'd gotten some sleep. He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door most of the way, and went to get the rest of the littles down for their nap.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Kids' Ages**  
>  Phil and Natasha: 6  
> Maria: 7  
> Clint and Loki: 8  
> Bruce: 9  
> Bucky and Rhodey: 11  
> Nick and Pepper: 12  
> Thor: 13
> 
> Comments are love.
> 
> Yes, [I has a tumblr](http://singingwithoutwords.tumblr.com/). My ask box is always open, and I love being poked by strange people on the internet!


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